


What is Normal?

by Cade Welentine (cadewelentine)



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Cheating, Lipstick, M/M, Secret Relationship, precanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 04:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11592735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadewelentine/pseuds/Cade%20Welentine
Summary: "'And what is normal?' Whizzer asks, turning back to his reflection. In the mirror, he watches Marvin fall back on his pillow and sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.'I wouldn’t know.'”





	What is Normal?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [worrylesswritemore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/worrylesswritemore/gifts).



> A while back, I asked for prompts on tumblr, and the lovely Falsettohnos (worrylesswritemore) asked for MA college AU at the beach /and/ precanon anything. The former is coming later, I promise, but for now, here's the latter. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys, and if anyone else wants to send me more prompts, feel free to leave something in the comments or drop me a line on tumblr (I'm eldertwelvecupsofcoffee!). <3

Whizzer hums softly to himself as he fixes his hair in the mirror. But it’s not just any mirror, he reminds himself, swooping the hairbrush up and back, it’s Marvin’s wife’s mirror. It sits on Marvin’s wife’s vanity, between her can of Aquanet and hairbrush (which Whizzer is ‘borrowing’) and her lipsticks and eyeshadows.

“Come back to bed.” Marvin murmurs from behind him. Whizzer glances back at him in the mirror. He’s tangled up in his sheets, spread out over the mattress like butter on toast. His eyelids are heavy and his lips are just barely parted. Whizzer imagines he could go over there and do anything he wanted with Marvin like that--but he won’t. Not now.

“No.” Whizzer says. Marvin groans this whiny little thing that makes him sound much more like a child than a grown man.

“Why not?”

“Because your _wife and child_ will be home any minute.”

Marvin makes another noise of annoyance. Whizzer rolls his eyes and refocuses on his own reflection. His hair is almost back to perfect. He wonders if Marvin’s wife will notice her hair products out of place, if she’ll smell his cologne on her pillow and wonder where it came from. That idea makes part of him giddy. It makes the other part of him anxious.

It’s not that Whizzer feels guilty about sleeping with Marvin while he’s still married, necessarily. It’s Marvin’s choice, and Marvin’s wife, and Marvin’s life; he’s a grown man who can do what he wants. But, that said, Whizzer doesn’t feel fantastic about the situation either; he won’t lie and say that it’s never made him uncomfortable to listen to Marvin talk about his family, or watch Marvin sneak off late at night.

“Next time, can I hold you after?” Marvin asks, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Mm.” Whizzer hums, giving his hair a spritz with Aquanet. He fluffs it slightly with his fingers, then decides it’s enough.

“You’ve gone too high.” Marvin says with a cluck of his tongue.

Whizzer rolls his eyes and flicks his wrist dismissively. “Nonsense.” Marvin makes a noise of dissent. He’s running his fingers through the sheets, tracing shapes in the fabric.

“I want to hear you say it.” Marvin says finally, looking up away from his sheet shapes to Whizzer.

“Say what?” Whizzer asks, turning around to face him.

“That you’ll let me hold you next time.”

Whizzer scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He won’t say that. He _can’t_ say it, not in good conscience. Because letting himself be held is letting himself means letting himself be intimate, and his... _thing_ with Marvin is anything but intimate. It’s just sex, plain and simple and dirty and rough. That’s all Whizzer wants it to be, so that’s all that it is. Sure, _Marvin_ wants more, but Whizzer was firm in his boundaries; at least, he tried to be.

“It’s not ridiculous.” Marvin asserts. He’s taking on that tone that Whizzer hates, the one that’s so condescending, so ‘manly’, so _straight_ . He uses it to say anything he thinks makes him _better_ than Whizzer. Whizzer makes a skeptical squeaking noise and cocks his head to the side, as if to ask, “Isn’t it?”

Marvin is undeterred. “It’s _normal_.”

“And what _is_ normal?” Whizzer asks, turning back to his reflection. In the mirror, he watches Marvin fall back on his pillow and sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Mm.” Whizzer says. “That’s what I thought.” On impulse, he picks up Marvin’s wife’s lipstick and swipes it along his bottom lip. He presses his lips together, transferring color from the bottom to the top. He admires his reflection again, then frowns. The color is too pink to be flattering, but he still turns around and shows Marvin anyway.

“Aren’t I beautiful?” He asks. Marvin lifts his head, sees him for a split second, then falls back and groans.

“Take that off.”

Whizzer rises from the little stool in front of the vanity and saunters over to Marvin, his usual half-smirk cracked across his face. He leaned down and pressed messy, lipstick kisses against Marvin’s neck and collarbone, taking care to leave pink lip marks on the skin. Let Marvin’s wife wonder if there’s another woman--it’s not like there is. And even though it makes Marvin squirm, Whizzer knows he’s doing both of them a favor; she’ll never suspect another man when there’s makeup involved. Straight women are like that.

“Stop.” Marvin says, but he’s laughing a little as he pushes Whizzer away. “You’re terrible.”

“You _love_ it.” Whizzer teases, biting his lip. He goes to add something else, but they hear the tell-tale sound of a station wagon pulling into the drive, and they both freeze. Then, just as quickly, Marvin is sitting up and searching for his boxers.

“Use the fire escape.” He says, like they haven’t done this a dozen times before. Whizzer’s already half out the window.

“Try not to miss me too much.”

“Go. I’ll call you tonight, after they’re asleep.”

“Mm.”

“ _Go._ ”

Whizzer’s on the landing for the apartment beneath Marvin’s by the time the wife and child are inside. He stops there for a moment, catching his breath. If he’s quiet, he can just barely hear what Marvin and his wife are saying through their open window.

“How was your day?” Marvin asks.

_Careful, Marv._ Whizzer thinks. _Your domesticity is showing_.

“Fine.” The wife says. Whizzer can imagine her taking out her earrings and placing them on her vanity. “The store was _mobbed_. Jason kept asking for candy, which was a nightmare.”

“I can imagine.”

“How about you? What did you do?”

“Nothing much.” Whizzer scoffs at that; he’s hardly ‘nothing much’.  “Just waited for you and Jason to be home--like always.”

“Hey!” That voice comes from behind Whizzer-- it belongs to someone much louder and older than either Marvin or his wife. The old woman who lives in the apartment beneath Marvin is standing at her window, a frying pan held up and ready to be swung at a moment’s notice. Whizzer jumps, then scrambles down the fire escape, landing in the alley.

He might’ve wanted to listen to Marvin’s small talk, but not at the expense of his pretty face.

_Nothing_ was worth that.


End file.
